


A Smudge of Ashes

by trishabooms



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-26
Updated: 2009-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trishabooms/pseuds/trishabooms





	A Smudge of Ashes

  
He’s alone, finally. Alone with Dean, which is how it should be. No angels, no demons, what friends they’d had all gone now.

This isn’t new for Sam, this saying goodbye, he’s been here before. He didn’t think any pain could be worse than the last time; seeing the hell hounds tear his brother apart, knowing that that was only the beginning, that Dean would be suffering unending torture in hell. He’d buried Dean in the earth back then, refusing Bobby’s plea to burn the body, determined that he would bring his brother back.

His brother wouldn’t return to hell, Castiel had given his word. If that wasn’t good enough, he also had the word of God himself that his brother would rest in peace. On reflection, Sam’s faith was in the word of the angel, at least Castiel had never simply walked away.

He can’t hold back the tears as he walks over to the pyre. He should have words, something profound to say over his brother’s body, but Sam doesn’t have any words left and even if he did they wouldn’t be enough, there can never be enough words to express Sam’s love for his brother, to recognize the value of the sacrifice his bother made to save him, to save all of them.

His hands are shaking as he lights the funeral pyre, but the kindling is dry and there isn’t a breath of wind.

He can’t stop his tears, he doesn’t know how.

It’s almost dawn when the last flame dies and he watches the sun rise in a clear blue sky for the first time in over a week, all taint of hell has gone. A breeze picks up, stirring his hair and catching the dry powder of ash in it’s touch, and Sam knows it’s over, that it’s time for him to leave, but he remains where he is, the memory of another dawn playing through his mind.

Sam had been seven or maybe eight years old that summer and they were staying in some back-water in northern Texas, their dad laid up after an encounter with a poltergeist. They’d had nothing to do, both of them bored and miserable until Dean had found the bike. It hadn’t looked like much at first, to Sam it was just so much scrap metal, but to Dean it had been a challenge. He’d spent weeks rebuilding it, stripping it of rust as he patiently pieced it back together. Dad had let him use some of the paint he used to touch up the Impala, he’d even given him some money to pick up a new front wheel at a garage sale in the nearby town. Sam had felt a little left out at first but Dean had convinced him to help with the rebuilding, showing him just what to do.

Sam had never had a bike, never ridden one, and he’d been so eager to learn that the two of them had gone out at the crack of dawn so that Dean could teach him.

He remembered that feeling of freedom, when Dean let go of him and he was riding on his own for the first time, remembered Dean’s whoop of joy as Sam kept his balance and rode the whole way back to the cabin they were staying in, their dad standing on the porch, his smile broad and proud. The sky had seemed so huge and blue that day as Sam rode down that road, the breeze in his hair, his grin huge and happy.

The tears were gone when Sam’s thoughts returned to the present but they remained close to the surface, the memory, good as it was, only making Sam miss his brother more. Dean had always looked out for him, and though Sam hadn’t always appreciated that as he’d grown older, he’d never doubted it.

The sun is directly overhead when he finally leaves the clearing , trudging back through the woods until he reaches the road where the Impala waits.

Dean’s baby, the closest thing to home that either of them ever had.

The tears start again, turning to deep, heart wrenching sobs as Sam slides down the outside of the passenger door, legs no longer able to hold him as the realisation that he is finally alone, that this time there will be no ‘do over’ hits him.

He can feel the weight of his gun tucked into the back of his jeans and pulls it out, eyes locked on the weapon as he turns it over and over in his hands before bringing it up to his face, and clicking the safety off. He knows that one shot is all it would take, just one to make the pain he was feeling go away. He opened his mouth slowly, the cool metal of the barrel coming to rest against his bottom lip. It would be so easy to...

With an angry cry he suddenly threw the gun into the nearby tree line, his self pity disgusting him at the same time as it threatened to overwhelm him.

When this latest crying jag is over Sam is a mess of tears and snot that he wipes ineffectually against the grey soot stains on the sleeve of his jacket. He doesn’t see the smudges of ash he’s left on his face until he’s sat in the driving seat of the Impala, staring into the mirror. The mark resembles a cross.

 _Repent, and hear the good news._

He uses the dregs at the bottom of the silver flask of Holy Water, which is still sitting in his pocket, to wash off the smudge of ashes before he drives away.

He’s twenty miles down the road when the Impala’s engine cuts out without warning and the car comes to gradual halt. She won’t start again and no matter how long Sam stares at the engine he has no idea why.

Dean would know.

Dean would be able to fix this.

A day hasn’t passed since Dean died and already he’s let his brother down.

Sam lowers his forehead to the steering wheel. Dean is gone and he’s never coming back and Sam...

“Giving up already, huh, Sammy?”

“Dean?”

When Sam raises his head his brother is sat in the back of the car, he’s smiling, green eyes bright and amused as he looks back at Sam in the rear-view mirror.

When Sam turns around the back seat is empty.

“I’m dead, man, what’s wrong with you?”

“You’re not a spirit, I made sure of that. You’re not here, you’re just a figment...”

“You are _such_ a whinny bitch. Stop with the pity party and listen to me!” His brother’s reflection sighed. “I’m gone, okay, but I’ve got contacts in high places these days and I figured you’d need a pep talk right about now. I’m good Sammy, I swear, no regrets except...”

“Except?” Sam wanted to know.

“I’m not there to take care of you anymore.”

“I don’t need you to take care of me,” He snapped, without thinking.

“You sure about that Sammy? Cuz, from where I’m sitting, it looks like maybe you do.”

Sam shook his head. “This is wrong, Dean. What am I doing here without you after everything I did? You... You never deserved this!”

“Neither did you little brother, none of this is your fault. The chance of a normal life got taken away from you. Now you have the chance to start over and you need to take it, Sammy.” Dean told him gently.

“What about you?”

“I’m tired, Sam. I’m ready for this, but you’re not.”

“You were ready to die?”

Dean met his eyes squarely in the mirror. “Death can be easy, Sam. It’s living that’s difficult.”

“I can’t do this,” Sam told him, “Not on my own.”

“Sure you can. I’m gonna be watching and don’t think I can’t still kick your ass if you fuck up.”

“Dean?”

“I’ll be seeing you, Sammy.”

As Dean’s reflection faded the Impala’s engine rumbled back to life, Metallica pouring, too loud, from the tape deck.

For the first time in days Sam found a smile as he turned the volume down. “I’ll be seeing you, Dean.”

The End


End file.
